Opera Populaire Reopened!
by Serafimo's Pretense
Summary: ON HOLD About Anna Dubois, a talented young singer who begins working at a replica of Webber's Opera Populaire. Will Anna meet our favorite Ghost? A mix of mild comedy, tragedy, and romance. Erik and other character fan fiction. Rating for later entries.
1. Chapter 1

Useful information: The main character's name is Anna Dubois. She is a Junior at Winds Burrow High School. This story takes place somewhere in Upstate New York, not far from the Big Apple.

Dear Reader,

I do not own any part of Phantom of the Opera. I hope you enjoy this fan fiction. Please read and rate.

Sincerely,

Serafimo's Pretense

I hopped into the backseat of my friend's corvette and said, "Good Morning! I missed you _so_ much!"

But I was really only talking to two of the three people present; my best friend, Natasha and my long time crush, Richard (or Rich as most called him). But, Sarah who just so happened to be there and thought I was also talking to her, replied as she turned around, "I missed you so much too!"

I smiled sweetly at her as I thought, 'Yeah right'. Natasha stifled a laugh. Sarah gave her a mean look and turned back around.

"Why are in such a good mood?" Natasha asked me, nodding suggestively towards Rich. I shook my head discretely and held up the latest issue of "Stagehands".

"Can you believe it? The Opera Populaire is going to be opened here of all places!" I said.

"I know!" Natasha squealed.

"Hey if you're so excited, I could probably get you in free. You know, my family being the patrons and all," Rich chimed in.

"He speaks," I joked.

Rich's eyes twinkled at me in the rearview mirror.

"You're so generous," Sarah purred and stroked his arm.

My face scrunched up in disgust and I changed the subject.

"The best part is that Mom and Dad are letting me audition."

"That's great!" Rich exclaimed.

"I'm so happy for you," Natasha said, pulling me into a hug.

Sarah remained silent. She has always been jealous of my singing talent.

"But anyway, enough about me. Natasha, you look like you have something up your sleeve," I said.

"Indeed I do," she responded and seemingly produced a newspaper from her sleeve. I laughed, as did Rich.

"Listen to this," she began, "Georgio Moreau moves to Upstate New York. Moreau was convicted of the attempted murder of Victor Morales in Paris, ten years ago. He was recently released this June. Moreau along with his wife, Julia and son, Markus, now live in a small house just outside the New York City."

The car was dead silent. All of us looked to Rich, sympathetically.

"That monster deserves to die," Sarah said, breaking the tension.

"Deserves to die? Who are you to be so quick to judge? How can you say such a thing?" I said with a fiery passion.

"How could she not?" Rich burst out, "That bastard tried to kill my uncle. _My _uncle."

I was too shocked to speak. For the first time in my life he took her side and not mine. We rode in silence for the rest of the time.


	2. Chapter 2

Dear Reader,

I do not own any part of Phantom of the Opera. Please read and rate.

Much obliged,

Serafimo's Pretense

We took a fieldtrip to the Opera Populaire, courtesy of the Chantley family.

I smiled weakly at Rich from across the classroom. Things hadn't quite mended between him and me. He returned the smiled and started walking towards me.

"Look, I'm sorry," he said.

"About what?" I asked innocently.

"Well, about the other day. I didn't mean to get mad at you. It's just… it's a touchy subject," He apologized.

"There's nothing to apologize for," I said.

He smiled in relief and hugged me tightly. I could feel my cheeks getting red hot. He released me and smiled once more. I glanced at Natasha and saw her devious grin. "Oh shut up," I said to her.

She only laughed in response.

We arrived at the opera house in the late morning. Our chaperones quickly ushered us into the lobby. It was a marvelous sight; pillars of marble and a grand staircase. I drew in a quick breath as Lisa nudged my arm. I hadn't realized I was holding my breath. The managers, who were standing at the bottom of the staircase, along with two other people. The managers walked forward and greeted Rich and our music director.

"Welcome to the Opera Populaire. Let us introduce ourselves. I am Monsieur Fevete," said the taller and slightly younger one with a mustache.

"And I am Monsieur Andrews," said the stocky older one.

Both of the managers had English accents. The managers bowed slightly to the crowd. _Enough theatrics._

Monsieur Fevete beckoned the two other people with them to come forward as well.

"This is our maestro, Monsieur Richardson," Monsieur Fevete continued.

A distinguished older man stepped forward and nodded in acknowledgement.

"And this is our ballet mistress, Madame Morrin," Monsieur Andrews said.

An aging but still beautiful woman stepped forward and curtsied. As she lifted her head, she looked right at me and smiled.

"What was that about?" Natasha quietly asked me.

"No clue," I whispered back.

We were split up into three groups. Rich, along with the people near the front, was led by the managers. The second group was led by Monsieur Richardson. Natasha and I, along with the rest of the people in the back, were led by Madame Morrin Madame Morrin guided us through the whole theatre. She even showed us the ballet dormitories.

When we arrived back at the lobby, we were the only ones there.

"Well, since it appears that we have some time left…. Are there any questions?" Madame Morin said.

A couple of people raised their hands. I had so many questions, but I didn't want to seem like a phanatic. So I said nothing.

Are there there any more questions? Any at all?" she asked us.

No one raised their hands. I looked up and met her eyes. Oops!

"What about you?" she said addressing me.

Everyone turned and stared at me expectantly. _OH, GREAT!_

"Could we see Box 5?" I asked softly.

Madame Morrin smiled and said, "Come along then."

She led us up the stairs, through the corridors and finally stopped outside a balcony seat.

"Does anyone know the legend of Box 5?" she asked our group.

Everyone else looked at each other confused. Just as I thought Madame Morrin was going to call on me again, Natasha piped up, "Box 5 is where the Phantom sits during operas."

"Very good. Now, we haven't had any visits from the opera ghost, but the Opera Populaire has yet to open. So, we'll see…" she announced mysteriously.

As we made our way back to the lobby, we saw that both of the other groups were finished also.

"If I could have your attention please," Monsieur Andrews said. "Thank you."

Everyone gathered around to hear what he had to say.

"As you know, we are in dire need of a cast. So anyone who is interested in auditioning can come next Saturday at 8:00 am. Auditions will be held on the stage."

Natasha nudged my ribs and winked at me.

"That is all, thank you for coming," Monsieur Fevete finished.

I was so excited; I knew exactly what piece I was going to perform


	3. Chapter 3

Dear Readers,

I am terribly sorry for the delay, school and such has kept me busy. This chapter is long as to make up for the wait. I do not own any part of Phantom of the Opera. I would like to thank my amazing editor, Miss Anderton. What would I do without you, R? Please read and rate.

Sincerely,

Serafimo's Pretense

I bit my lip and wrung my hands. I was so nervous. _What if I wasn't good enough? What if I blanked? _I would surely die! _Oh, dear God, give me peace and courage. _I checked my watch for the hundredth time in 2 minutes. My mom looked over at me as we pulled up to the Opera house.

"Don't worry, honey," she said. "You'll do great."

I smiled weakly, hoping she was right.

I walked into the theatre and started climbing up the grand staircase. Then, I realized that I had no clue how to get to the stage. _Well, I'm bound to bump into someone. _ I kept walking aimlessly. I heard voices and decided to follow them. I soon found out that I had heard the managers and was now standing just outside their office.

"I'm beginning to regret this decision," I heard one of them say.

"Don't fret, dear Andrews. All we need is a bit of publicity," Monsieur Fevete reassured his fellow manager.

Monsieur Andrews groaned in response. I heard a bit of shuffling and suddenly the door clicked.

_Oh, crap! This is bad!_

They both stepped out and looked at me with shock.

"What are you doing here!" Monsieur Andrews stammered.

"I'm sorry, sir, I came to audition and got lost," I replied with my head down in embarrassment.

"Ah yes," Monsieur Fevete said. "Don't you go to Winds Burrow High?"

"Yes sir," I said raising my head a tad.

"I never forget a pretty face," he said with a smile I didn't quite like.

"Excuse me, but you are blocking the way," Madame Morrin said.

None of us had noticed her standing there.

"Madame Morrin would you kindly escort Miss…" Monsieur Andrews said as he motioned for my name.

"Anna Dubois," I offered.

"To the stage for auditions," Monsieur Fevete finished.

"Of course, Messieurs," she replied sweetly.

Both of the managers turned about and stalked off briskly.

Madame Morrin turned to me and smiled.

"So your name is Anna Dubois. I believe you already know who I am," she said.

"Yes, you are the Opera Populaire's ballet mistress," I responded.

"Follow me," she said, turning sharply and walking away rather quickly.

As we approached the stage, I noticed that there were already quite a few people waiting to audition. I glanced at my watch; it wasn't even 7:30. Madame Morrin led me to the line and motioned for a blonde girl, who was standing off to the side, to join us.

"Anna, I would like you to meet my daughter, Elizabeth," Madame Morrin said, presenting the blonde girl to me.

"But you can just call me Liz," Elizabeth informed me with a warm smile.

_She's seems very nice, I like her already._

Madame Morrin coughed, irritated and shot an expectant look at her daughter.

Liz, preoccupied with fiddling with her ballet skirt, suddenly noticed her mother's glare.

"Oh, right," she mumbled.  
Liz curtsied politely and then straightened herself out and offered her hand.

I shook her extended hand and replied, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Liz, would you be a dear and keep Mademoiselle Dubois company whilst I attend to the ballet auditions?" Madame Morrin asked her daughter.

"Of course, Mother," Liz responded.

Madame Morrin left in a sure and quick manner.

Liz let out a sigh of relief once her mother was out of range.

"Sorry about that. My mother can be a really stuffy French woman sometimes," she groaned.

I chuckled and said, "It's quite alright. She's very kind and doesn't seem all too stuffy."

"Oh please!" Liz exclaimed.

We both laughed.

Liz and I chatted about our lives and the arts while the line slowly progressed.

The girls and boys I had heard so far were pretty good, but only good enough to get into the chorus. The woman in front of us kept complaining and bragging to the other woman with her.

"I'm dying for a soy non-fat caramel frappuccino! It's so stuffy in here, it's ruining my hair! This is taking forever!" the woman screeched in a slight British accent to her companion.

Liz rolled her eyes and mimicked the woman. We laughed loudly. I had known Liz for barely more than half an hour, but I felt like we were old friends.

"Next," M. Fevete called.

The rude and obnoxious woman in front of us strutted to the middle of the stage.

The woman cleared her throat and announced, "I will be singing 'Think of Me'."

_Well, that's original. _Everyone else had used that song already.

The woman began to sing. Her voice was good, talented but not very impressive. Her voice lacked emotion and she sang with too much bravado. The song ended and she took a deep bow. She reminded me of La Carlotta.

"By the way, my name is Raquel. Raquel Daae," she said with a confident smirk.

Everyone within earshot let out an audible gasp. Clearly this was the reaction Raquel was looking for since her smirk widened. The managers were conversing quietly, yet with excitement. From the conversation I had overheard, I gathered that the managers would make Raquel Prima Donna, all because of her surname. My heart broke. _That's not fair! She's not even that good! _ I didn't realize until then that I wanted to be a star. I checked myself. _Just be grateful if you make it into the chorus._

"Brilliant!" Monsieur Andrews cheered.

"We have found our Prima Donna!" Monsieur Fevete bellowed.

Monsieur Richardson raised a puzzled brow but kept silent.

Raquel Daae stalked off with her companion scurrying after her. The excitement died down and Monsieur Andrews said, "Next, then."

My heart began beating faster and my hands went cold._ I'm next!_

I stepped timidly to the center of the stage.

"Ah, Miss Dubois. What will you be singing?" Monsieur Fevete asked me.

"I will be singing 'Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again'," I said in a shaky voice.

I closed my eyes and mentally prepared myself. _I will do my best for her. I wouldn't here if it weren't for her. Deep breaths. Let your heart obey the music._ I uncovered my eyes and opened my mouth to let my heart show a miracle.

"You were once   
my one companion ...   
you were all   
that mattered ...   
You were once   
a friend and father -   
then my world   
was shattered ..." I began in an unsteady, devastated and soft voice.

"Wishing you were   
somehow here again ...   
wishing you were   
somehow near ...   
Sometimes it seemed   
if I just dreamed,   
somehow you would   
be here ...

Wishing I could   
hear your voice again ...   
knowing that I   
never would ...   
Dreaming of you   
won't help me to do   
all that you dreamed   
I could ..." I sang my voice growing louder, more desperate.

"Passing bells   
and sculpted angels,   
cold and monumental,   
seem, for you,   
the wrong companions -   
you were warm and gentle ..." I continued, my voice dropping to a low and somber tone.

"Too many years   
fighting back tears ...   
Why can't the past   
just die ...?

Wishing you were   
somehow here again ...   
knowing we must   
say goodbye ...   
Try to forgive ...   
teach me to live ...   
give me the strength   
to try ..." I sang as my voice become louder and stronger.

"No more memories,   
no more silent tears ...   
No more gazing across   
the wasted years ...   
Help me say   
goodbye." I finished, pouring my heart out.

I stood as still as a stone, awaiting the axe with unshed tears in my eyes. I looked down into the orchestra pit to catch Monsieur Richardson discretely dabbing his eyes. I glanced at the managers who sat dumfounded and shocked. _Was I that bad? _Then, someone started clapping and soon everyone else was too. I was overcome with relief and happiness. The managers, taking a cue from the general decision, looked at one another and made a silent agreement.

"Miss Dubois, you show potential," Monsieur Fevete said.

"Great potential," Monsieur Andrews added. "And we would greatly appreciate if you joined our chorus."

"Thanks you messieurs. I accept your offer," I said gratefully.

They gestured a dismissal and I practically ran off the stage to an ecstatic Liz. Her arms wrapped me in a warm and friendly hug.

"Oh, Anna, you were wonderful!" Liz praised giddily.

"Thank you very much," I replied.

"Excuse me, gentlemen. I have a note from the Opera Ghost," Madame Morrin said in a commanding voice.

For the second time today, everyone let out an audible gasp.

_Erik! The Phantom of the Opera! He is with us! It's the ghost! He's here!_

Liz gripped my hand tightly and all the color drained from Monsieur Richardson's face. The managers stood up and said in unison, "The Opera Ghost?"

"Qui. That's what I said. Do you have trouble hearing," Madame Morrin said dryly.

That shut them up, right quick. Both managers looked at each other with worry written all over their faces. Madame Morrin broke the seal and unfolded the note.

She read, "Dear Andrews and Fevete. Welcome to my opera house, make yourselves comfortable in my home. All you must do is follow my instructions and the Opera Populaire will run smoothly. Please do employ people who have talent. Do not forget my salary of two-thousand dollars a month. Dire consequences if my orders are not obeyed. Sincerely, O.G."


	4. Chapter 4

Dear Readers,

I'm sorry that I haven't updated Opera Populaire. I am in the porcess of rewriting it, so it mihg tbe a while before the story continues. Thnk you for reading!

Sincerely,

Serafimo's Pretense


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